“Asians are very expensive, you know?” He leaned forward from the beat up armchair, but made no move to touch the briefcase on the table. “Just this much won’t be nearly enough - Double it.”

“You...” The client was too dignified to fill in the foul words that came to his mind, but they flicked descriptively across his features had any chose to watch him.

The two men were from very different walks of life. The client in his black suit and tie stood out in the dingy room. The tiles that still existed were cracked, the table chipped and creaky, even the armchair the man sat upon was losing it's stuffing as springs protruded from the sides.

A slight motion from the armchair and his men dragged the girl forward, with no amount of struggle despite the chains that held her down. His hand tilted her chin upwards, giving his client a full view of her clean features and the startling black eyes that offered a glare that could peel paint. The white pristine cloth stood between his fingers and her skin, as if to avoid dirtying a product before the transaction.

He treated her like merchandise.

“No make up, no whitening. It’s all natural. She’s a top grade product. You can’t deny it. Plus, she’s a solid fighter. I guarantee with proper use, she’s got plenty of room to improve. Now. If you want it...”

He didn’t need to finish. The second brief case clacked against the first, knocking the lid close with a click as the second case opened to display the neat array of liquid energy cores inside - enough to provide them power in this wasteland for a long time....

*********
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*********

The roundhouse connected solidly with his lower jaw and the follow through sent him flying. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.... if at all. His partner that came with him rushed to his aid, keeping a wary eye on the Asian that had so successfully taken his friend out of commission.

“Brat!!” He screamed his rage, fumbling for a moment before he pulled free his pistol. It was a last resort. Boss wanted them alive. “Don’t fucking underestimate me!”

She was moving already. Before he had time to squeeze the trigger, she was on him. The pistol discharged as he screamed again, this time in pain. His arm was bent at a 90 degree angle - the wrong way.

“Go back and tell your boss. Don’t come back here again.” She spoke ominously, just loud enough for them to hear, as the pair struggled to leave. She stood before the dilapidated buildings as the younger ones peered out from crumbling walls. Only after she was certain that the snatchers wouldn’t come back did she return to her charges amid the cheers of her victory.

“Anya.... thank you. We’ve always relied so much on you... if only we could help you fight...” A woman walked out to greet her.

“It’s okay. You all take care of me. It’s the least I can do to protect everyone Elise.”

“But those guys.... won’t learn.” Elise murmured as she stared into the distance where the pair had disappeared.

“Why... Who are they?” Anya’s eyes followed the gaze.

“Black market dealers. Since this settlement is mostly comprised of unarmed women and children, dealers come here to … replenish their stores...”

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*********

“That’s a joke right?” He scoffed, “This is one of the most important places for gathering inventory. Without it, we’d go out of business.”

“Your business is none of our concern, neither are we your products. Get out.” Anya answered firmly. She stood as the first and last defense for the ones behind her.

“Conceited brat.” He spat the words out venomously. “You boys are seriously worthless. Losing to this brat to come crawling back to me?”

“Sorry...” The men behind him grimaced.

“No matter. Go pick up a few top quality products.”

The man bold enough to grab the nearest child was greeted with surprise. Anya was upon him immediately.

Her fist nearly connected.

“Don’t interfere with my business.” He growled. She was deflected by his arm and his other hand sent her staggering back to crumple on the ground. She pulled herself into a crouch as he approached. “Perhaps the brat needs to be taught a lesson.”

Her foot narrowly missed his face as she attacked. The flurry of kicks and punches exchanged held everyone’s attention.

“No wonder they couldn’t beat you... “ His eyes gleamed with something else as he waited for an opening. It was over quick as his hand connected solidly with the back of her head. “But, I’m different.”

She fell. Her face almost hitting the floor before his hand caught a handful of her hair to pull her up. He pulled both her hands above her head with an iron grip. “Now then. Lets get down to business.”

“I’m merely a businessman. I’m not selling you people for fun here.”

“Could’ve fooled me....” Came a barely audible croak.

He ignored her. “Therefore, if you pay an amount equal to this place’s value, I won’t come here anymore. Of course, I’ll make sure the other dealers agree.”

“Bullshit! As if you’d honor that agreement?!” She shouted, struggling from her position and failing.

“Like I said. I’m a businessman. In these times, there is no one more credible than businessmen. If you’re willing to pay, this place is yours. Any that come here afterwards, are considered thieves.”

“What will you choose?”

“But money...”

“If you have something of equal value, it doesn’t have to be money.”

“Eh?”

“Something, such as... you.”

“What do you mean?!” Elise stepped forward for the first time. Her body shook with fear and rage.

“Exactly what I said. If she comes with me, I’ll leave this place alone.”

“Stop messing around! That’s clearly a lie! Anya don’t!!” A man caught hold of Elise before she could rush to Anya’s aid.

“Really?” Anya’s voice was pained. “If I come with you... You promise to leave this place alone?”

“I promise.” He took his hand off of Anya, pulling a lighter out to light his cigarette.

“Alright.” Her shoulders sagged and her chin dropped.

He replaced the lighter and pulled from his jacket a small vial on a chain. Popping open the lid, he pressed his finger against the embedded needle inside, filling the vial with a few droplets of his blood. The DNA signature registered quickly, the blood preserved inside forming a unique identifier.

He moved towards to Elise, far faster than she stumbled backwards, placing the vial and chain in her hand. “If other dealers come, show this to them. They wouldn't dare touch you.”

“I don’t ne--” Elise sobbed, her hand raised to shatter the vial on the ground, only to be caught by his hand.

“You should keep it.” He spoke quietly. Almost as if he cared. “Don’t let her efforts go to waste.”

He released her hand, turning on his heel to leave as she dropped to her knees in tears, tossing behind him the single line, “Asians are very expensive, you know.”

The soft clink of heavy chain around her wrist was drowned by the clatter of wheels over broken pavement. Her body swayed in the cart that trucked along on roads that had long since been ruined. Wedged into a corner of her small confinement, with her head tucked between her knees, she lost count of the number of times she questioned the choice she had made. The fear of what might happen when the cart finally stopped moving weighed heavily...

The uneven clatter suddenly smoothed out into a clean cadence, a dull drone that went on before the cart came lurching to a stop.

Her wary eyes lifted as men pulled her from the far corner she’d wedged herself into. Her feet were set down on to smooth clean pavement. The air was warm and the breeze that flitted through her hair felt... refreshing. But what caught her attention was the sky. The sky was a startling clear blue, a vivid difference from the caustic red hue she’d grown to accept....

She was in Eden.

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*********

Flung into the center of a room, she braced herself from falling before turning sharply to face the attendants that closed the door softly behind them. She offered a glare that spoke volumes of promised defiance, accompanied by a spitfire of curses as she backed away.

Wary eyes watched him advance. Widening as he methodically opened a case of neatly lined syringes already filled for his use. His gloved hand thumbed over the smooth array of drugs before picking up the furthest one and turning his attention to her.

His attendants had already held her down. Her struggles were useless, but she still struggled, fought to pull free from the chains as her fearful eyes watched the inevitable descent of the needle held in his gloved hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Soon, you won’t be able to live without it.”

It was over quick. Her dose was administered with such practiced precision, that there was no question of how he’d subdued any subject before her. The prick to her neck dulled and was forgotten as she crumpled to her knees. Somewhere in the distance she heard him speak again. “Pull her up.”

When she was finally steady on her feet, he turned with the simple command, “Come.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye as the elevator lurched into motion. The lustre in her eyes had vanished, as did the spirited defiance, all of that had dulled into nothing, leaving behind the blank emptiness of a shell.

She didn’t belong here. Not with the frayed shirt and torn up jeans. Her shoes were dirty, and worn so thin that a hole had wormed it’s way through the end... a slum rat. She stood in stark contrast to his far more manicured appearance. His jacket was a slate grey, perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders. The dress shirt an easy blue that yielded nicely to a darker grey tie, framing the Pratt Knot that was flawlessly done.

She didn’t belong here, but all of that would be fixed in time.

The elevator door opened, to reveal the black tie affair of men and women watching a raucous event from the balcony where many were seated. Others lounged against the wrought iron railing, all eyes watching the arena beneath them between sips of wine.

“I want you to participate in a game.” He spoke softly, just loud enough for her to hear as he walked to a small gap between viewers by the balcony. She shuffled close beside him to peer over the rail at the arena. The spectacle that filled her eyes was that of two men, wounded but desperately engaged in battle.

“The game is quite simple really. Some day I want you to fight there as my pawn.” The two fighters lurched into a deadlock swinging blows in desperation. One man staggered back. He was bleeding from his scalp with an eye badly bruised and swollen. He held a battered piece of flattened metal like a shield, his other brandished a long bladed knife to keep his opponent at bay while he sought to recover his footing.

Sweat covered both men as the other charged to press his advantage. His battle cry was a riveting growl that held every one's eyes. The spectators roared as their attention became riveted on what might just determine the results of their bets.

“Brutish.” The single word was spat with disgust as he turned his full attention to the girl still staring dully at the gory scene below. “But you my dear.... You will be different.” His gloved hand lifted to brush aside the strands of black hair, to trace behind the delicate line of her jaw and follow the column of her neck, finally stopping just before the collar of her dirtied shirt.

He’d not soil his hands.

The pair left the room just as the spectators roared, easily eclipsing the guttural sound of death.

He accepted the offered glass and gently swirled the vintage before taking a sip. The wine was terrible, an unfortunate casualty of the Great War. The makings of such finer vintages was a lost art form that no one had the resources to rediscover - Truly a pity.

His attention turned to the pawn in the arena. Two brutes once more going at each other desperately, knowing that only one would leave the arena alive. His disgust was plain as he called the nearest monitor over.

“I’m exchanging my pawn.”

“Very good sir, you’re aware of the penalty?”

“Of course.”

Seconds later the bell rang as the two fighters stepped away.

“A substitution has been called. There will be a 30 second no attack penalty for the substitution.”

The spectators went into a flurry of murmurs as the left gate was pulled open. From the shadows came the soft rustle of lace and satin. “Surely she’s sent...” - “to die” - “beautiful, but” - “Hardly the appearance” - “of a fighter” - "A waste of a beauty..."

Time had no meaning to her as she stepped forth into the brilliant arena. Her hair was done and the ornate hairpiece matched the white satin of her layered gown. Despite the elegant beauty, her eyes were empty - hollow, unforgiving like the encroachment of death, an angel of death.

Her mouth moved, the soft forming of words like a mantra, that only the retired pawn, limping towards the open door heard “Rule Number One - All weapons other than firearms are legal.”

“Rule Number Two -”

And the pawn fell. Blood spilling from his front as he crumpled. He never realized what had stolen his life, a life he had fought so desperately for moments earlier. Even the spectators had not fully registered the sword in her hand that had so swiftly killed him.

“- If Rule Number One does not apply, there is no penalty or foul.”

The blood didn’t even soil her clothes. Having moved past the dead with unnerving grace.

“Rule Number Three - No matter who the opponent is, any opponent must be eliminated under any circumstances”

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The effects of the drug were wearing off. These were the worst. Her body shook as her consciousness returned to her. Her thoughts, logic returned from their suppressed state only to grapple with the death she’d inflicted moments earlier before a stupefied crowd.

“You were beautiful.” She never heard her him enter the room. Her thoughts had filled her ears. Thoughts too filled with the blood that must be staining her hands and drenching the pure white gloves.

His hands came to circle about her waist as she swallowed hard.

“Don’t - Please don’t touch me” She whispered in a shaking voice.

“Why? You were beautiful out there. Like an angel.” His finger traced the criss-crossed ties to slip the knot that held the laced back bodice. Letting the dress slide to the ground about her feet.

“No - Don’t” She whimpered.

“An Angel of Death.” He whispered those words in her ear, his breath flitting to disturb the few stray hairs as his lips pressed to the side of her neck.

“Don’t say that!!” It was a cry of despair, as her hands became fists against the wall, crimson hand prints in her minds eye colored the wall with her guilt.

But she made no move to stop him. She couldn’t stop him. The remnants of his drug and the countless hours... days... weeks of his conditioning of her, held full sway as she suffered the withdrawal, the want for the next dose.

“Slut” The growl that sounded at the nape of her neck was accompanied by a hard thrust of his hips. It drove her body forward, to bruise against the edge of the table.

Tears fell like rain. Splattering onto the wood grain as she shook her head to deny it. The sense of power was long gone. In its absence was the dull throb of nothingness. The gut wrenching self loathing that she was less than nothing.

“No? But you’re sopping wet.” His hand reached down to draw his fingers over her sex, relishing the involuntary shudder as fingertips grazed her clit. “Only sluts get this wet. Only sluts who want a good proper fucking get this wet.”

“Nooo...” A soft sob. “It’s … it’s not me...I don’t -”

Her words were cut short by the jerk of her hair. His free hand pulling her head back as his prick pinned her against the table. His fingers smeared over her cheek and mouth. Forcing her to smell, to taste the evidence from her cunt. Another hard thrust, answered by her pained cry. Her body was shaking, painfully weak without the empowerment of her drug.

She needed it.

She hated it. The withdrawal, the drug. Hated him. Hated that her body reacted so strongly. That it held so much sway over her. She hated herself. Hated that she was so powerless.

One day, this will change.

She told herself, held tight to the hope, that one day, she would have her revenge.

One day, I will be free.

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Dirty. She felt so dirty.

She shuffled behind the guard escorting her back to her cell. Her hands shook. Her gait unsteady.

She needed that next dose. But she knew. She wouldn’t get it. He was perverse that way. Sending her back to her cell after fucking himself to oblivion. Like a used toy. A tool having served it’s purpose. She hated it.

She sniffed. The tears hadn’t stopped. Nor the shakes. Nor the ache. Now her whole body hurt.

She was filthy. Filthy with his cum dripping from her cunt to smear between her thighs as she walked. Violated. His cum was only proof of it. To remind her that he owned her.

“It’s been two weeks now that she’s been doing this. We can’t keep her cell secure if she keeps covering the security camera in her room.” The guard growled.

They didn’t touch her, despite their rage. They knew better. Instead, the guards brought her before him. Hoping that the one who held the reins to her collar would teach her the lesson they were forbidden to dole out.

Cold gray eyes looked up from the work at hand, as if weighing them each in turn. She knew this mood. Contrary. The edge of his annoyance barely seen in the hard glint of his eyes.

Her face was bland and her gaze lowered, to discreetly watch the room from beneath her lashes. Every bit schooled to the demure nonchalance she needed to hide behind. She had been fortunate. Disturbing him in this state did not bode well for her guards.

He set the papers down and leaned back into his chair. Lean fingers steepled in front as his gaze returned to weigh on her.

“Just because you can see me in whatever state you desire, does not mean they should have that privilege. My security is not related to when I eat, or sleep or shower.” Her arguments were concise. Thought out beforehand to address a man that was difficult to please. Tears would not have moved him.

Her words sparked a growl of distaste from the guards in the room while she held her breath, awaiting his verdict.

“So, gentlemen, why is this a problem? The woman wants her privacy.” He shrugged and picked up the papers from his desk. It was the same table he’d bent her over so many times before. Enough that she now knew every scratch and notch left in the wooden grain. Enough that she'd left several of her own. Enough that she hated being so near it now.

“But -” A guard protested before the other kicked him into silence

“Besides. You’ve still got the cameras on the hallway. In the off chance that she gets out, you can still see.” He continued as if the interruption had not occurred. His mind already returning to the work at hand as he dismissed them.

Cameras in the hallways. Of course there would’ve been cameras there. She should’ve expected it. The door opened as she turned to file out with her guards. Already she saw the telltale signs of the monitoring cameras. Their little red LED lit to show that they were functioning and online. She would have to find a way to deal with those as well....

She breathed her relief as she left the room. A sound audible only to the guards that escorted her. Her guards on the other hand bristled when the door clicked shut and a hand coiled painfully into her hair as one of them slammed her into the far wall.

“Don’t look so smug, slum rat. You’re just a murderer in the ring, and a slut on a leash outside of it.” A growl in her ear.

She didn’t answer. It was the truth. She knew it and so did they. She just wished that the truth didn’t have to hurt so much.

She fingered the rip in her cot. The subtle tear held the key card she’d palmed from the guard. Eventually it would be deactivated. Of that she was certain. But in the meantime, it was a small step towards her freedom.

She would get there, she told herself. Eventually.

If she repeated those words enough, maybe it’d come true. Maybe she’d believe it. Her body was shaking again. Hours would pass like this in the agony of her need. Hours that felt like days. Time was a strange thing in this state. This was eternity. She was sure of it. She fought down the whimper that threatened to sound. She would not beg for his drug. In spite of the emptiness that never seemed to end. The despair.

She would not beg.

Tears welled up as she pulled the blanket close. Another aspect of the withdrawal, or so she told herself. Tried to tell herself. None of those words made her feel any better. She was still weak. Still broken. Still dirty. Still worthless.

She stared at the far wall. Notches in the concrete marched across the short expanse of her cell. A reminder of how long she’d been there. She would make another one today. When dinner came. Or had she done so already.... She couldn’t remember. There were so many of them. Testament to her stay. Proof that she was weak. Powerless. Trapped.

Tears became sobs, her body shuddered as she tried to stop, tried to break the self loathing and failed. She curled into herself. Trying to find safety in her own warmth as her hands clenched. Her right hand, curled into the tear on her cot, tore the hole larger still. She didn’t care. The hard laminated plastic gave her the solace she so desperately needed. The card dug into her palm as she gripped it, a reminder that she would find her way out. Evidence that she was getting stronger. A conviction to work towards her freedom, one tiny step at a time.

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It was the fourth day. It took her till then before she could bring herself to beg. Till the gnawing ache of want drove her past her control to the limit of her sanity. It took till then to turn her eyes into hollow wells of reflexive need. It took this much for her dignity to splinter.

His hand stroked gently through her hair as he looked down at her, on her knees, where she belonged. A subtle motion brought an attendant forward along with his case of drugs. His free hand drifted lazily to pick out a syringe filled with his cocktail of her euphoria, relishing the way her eyes tracked the next hit with a ferocious intensity of concentration.

“Tell me. How bad do you want it? How’re you going to show me? Just how grateful you are that I’m giving this to you, you little slut?” His hand smoothed down her hair to cup her cheek, letting the barrel of the syringe roll against her skin and feel her tremble with her barely contained need. So close.

Her eyes snapped back to meet his gaze as she swallowed hard. Her mind racing, trying to read his eyes and decide just what he wanted. She looked past the growing tent of his slacks and focused on the grin...

“Please.... please let me suck your cock? To - to show you how thankful I am? Please? Won’t you let me?” She swallowed her pride and pleaded. She didn’t care anymore. It was too much.

When his grin widened, she knew she’d guessed right. With her teeth dimpling her lower lip, she watched as he took easy measured steps back and waved the attendant away. “Certainly.”

The crawling began. Her hips picked up a feline sway as she moved forward on her hands and knees to press her face against his groin. She watched for his approval as her lips captured a zipper and she made a show of pulling it down.

Deft hands pulled out his semi hard member, feeling him harden to the touch of her fingers. Here she paused again, her gaze holding his as she whispered, “Please.”

Her mouth engulfed his prick, swallowing as he hardened instantly to steel inside her. He groaned his pleasure as she slowly worked his cock with the shallow bobs of her head. The sound rumbled before deepening into a growl, “If you’re going to suck, then do it right.”

His hips rolled forward as his hands moved to coil into her hair and pull her deeper onto his shaft. She shook from the force, the whimper stilled by his cock in her throat. He fucked her face, using her hair to guide her pace until she kept up with him of her own accord.

Her hands stroked and cradled his tightening balls in turn. Her cheeks hollowed out with each thrust of his hips, knowing just what it was to push him further to the edge. She worked, until she could feel him twitch in her mouth and throat. The telltale sign that his release, and her reward would be near.

A grunt. A moan, accompanied by the tightened grip in her hair all accumulated to this point. He pulled his prick free, to release the first spurt of cum over her face. Her hand didn’t stop. Still she continued to stroke him, and milk the next splash of his seed, until he’d emptied himself over her face and hair. Leaving sticky splotches about her neck to dribble onto her clothes.

She leaned in to suckle him dry, further cleaning him of the last bit of his cream as he smiled down at her. “You’re such a good little cum slut. Aren’t you...” He spoke between heavy breaths, his voice picking up the edge of a wicked tone, “Aren’t you satisfied with your cream? Don’t tell me you wanted more than just cum? “

Her eyes widened. Tears welled up at the implication that she wouldn’t get the next hit she worked so hard for as she pleaded with her eyes He groaned when his softening prick popped from her mouth with a trail of saliva strung from the tip of his crown to her lips. “Alright alright. For being such a good girl...”

He bent over her and let the needle prick her arm, adding to the motley array of needle marks that were already there. It was her turn to groan. Grateful for the rush of power that would soon fill her veins... that she’d be normal soon. And she could fight again. Fight him. Fight her captivity. Fight the drug.

He sank into the seat overlooking the arena. The audience today hummed with excitement. Days like this were good for bets. Lighting up a cigarette, he took a deep draw from the haze of nicotine. It took the edge off his thoughts as business ticked at the forefront of his mind.

“James.” The seat shifted as another man joined him. “It took you a while. To build her up to where she is now. Are you sure you want to waste her like this?”

The newcomer tossed his head back in a grating laugh.

“Cut the crap, Neil. What happens happens. We both know you don’t give a shit for the ring.” He grimaced at the laugh but his eyes never left the arena.

“Your right. I just think it’s a pity. You know. To waste such a good lookin piece of ass on my pawn. I hope you’ve taken advantage of her while she’s still around.” The laughter stopped just as abruptly as it came in and his voice dropped to a low murmur. “My sources have been telling me that unrest outside of Eden have begun to gain traction. All units have been pulled onto patrol duty to secure Eden’s perimeter. I’ve given you what I can spare, James. I’ve got a job to fill.” His lips barely moved and his words were only loud enough for them to hear.

A scowl cut angrily across James’ features before smoothing out into the bland nonchalance that fit the nature of the room.

“Besides. You can’t say I don’t care for the ring. My pawn took me quite some time to acquire you know. I’m quite proud of him. ‘Course, he’s not nearly as easy on the eye as yours.”

Their conversation was cut short when she stepped into the arena below For a long moment, the audience was captivated. The slit on her dress was high, enough to not impair her movements; the neckline, low. The deep V drew attention to the cleavage, the slit to her long legs. The silence was deafening. Easy on the eye, had been an understatement.

Adrenaline pumped a steady beat through her veins. She felt strong. Like a whirlwind barely contained in the skin that held herself together. The spotlight was blinding and the crowd was goaded into a roar of excitement. She saw none of them, and heard none of it. Her eyes trained on the opposing door in wait to gauge her opponent.

Kill.

She stepped forward with her rapier poised by her side. Her eyes hollow with drugs and conditioning as she lunged in for the attack. She just had to kill

That was her biggest mistake.

The splash of red was no surpise. It was the flower of pain across her sword arm that made her realize the blood had been her own. He had drawn first blood. Pain jostled her from the drug induced stupor of aggression. Her right arm throbbed, a constant reminder that the ring was no game, as blood dripped onto the floor of their court.

It was through pain that she learned fear.

Shock brought fear into the forefront of her mind. Her opponent was an imposing figure, not because of his build, but because of versatility of his offense and defense. The long triangular blades extended from handles that sheathed the length of his forearms, had opened into a third, now stained with her own blood. Katars.

She transferred the rapier to her left and retreated as he stepped onto the offensive. She switched to the defensive, dancing away from the open slash that threatened to cut her open. Life returned to her eyes as she watched him with steely eyes

Cold calculation.

Time ticked steadily by as she weaved and retreated from him. Together their dance painted droplets of red across the arena floor. Until the crowd jeered at her cowardice, and the impatience showed in the darkness of his face. Her eyes never wavered. Still intent upon his body that spoke of his attacks. Watchful of the impatience that wore out his caution. Despite her overwhelming disadvantage, she knew her opening would come.

And it did

He lunged in to snare her blade. A turn of her wrist took the point he sought away and her opening came in his overcommitment. She made a show of stepping into her attack. Her feet moving forward and weight pushed into the blow. Forcing him to trap her blade.

The gleam of victory in his eyes was short lived. A hard twist upwards drove the tension to the rapier’s breaking point and as it snapped, she drove the broken blade through his throat and into his brain as he held the shattered stub of her blade in shock.

The crowd was stunned. How had the tables turned so rapidly? It was only until she picked up his fallen weapons and turned to leave the arena that they recovered and roared with excitement. A sound that rang in cacophony down the hall that led her away.

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There was a lot on his mind. The conversation with Neil did not bode well. Every few years the overzealous rats outside of Eden would rise, bearing some glorious ideal of justice, just to suicide against the gates of Eden. Their lives weren’t what bothered him. Garbage like that were expendable and would always exist. It was the damage these rallying rebels were capable of that needled him.

Humans were a necessary casualty of war, more would continue to exist and replace the lost. But old technology they had yet to understand, wasn’t.

When he met her in his rooms. He grimaced at the dribble of blood that dotted his floor. The wound and the broken weapon meant she would be out of the ring for a while. Much longer than he’d liked.

“Get that treated.” He snapped and an attendant rushed forward to pull open a cabinet and take out a small white kit. The attendant applied first aid upon the open gash on her arm as James paced the floor. “Just give her the entire kit. She’ll need it to dress that wound later.” He growled his dismissal. The attendant nodded, letting the cabinet doors click as the magnets snapped the door close.

Not wanting to find out whether his contemplative mood was a good or bad one. The attendant escorted her from the room in retreat and handed her the entire first aid kit.She would need it.

How the idea dawned on her, she didn’t know. But it gave her hope. Even as the shakes pressed passed the limit of what she could control, even as the need gnawed at her, the aches soon to follow. Even then, hope kept the worst of the withdrawal at bay.

She had to work quickly. Having been escorted to his bed chambers while he was preoccupied with business, it wouldn’t be long before he returned to hurt her again. She pulled open the cabinet. The one she knew that had the magnetic closure. She would need two to tamper with her cell door. Top or bottom? Bottom. Likely no one would notice them.

Her fingers worked quick. Unscrewing the screws as she slid the magnets free and rolled the screws under the cabinet. Snapping the magnets together, she hid them against the inside of her slip. She breathed her relief as she closed the cabinet door.

Her relief came too early.

The clink of cuffs accompanied the click of the cabinet as large hands came into view to take her trim wrists captive. Her eyes widened with fear. A hand coiled into her hair as his other gripped the chain between the cuffs, slamming her against the cabinet she’d just tampered with.

“What. Exactly are you doing?” A snarl.

When had he entered the room!?

Did he see her...? No. He shouldn’t have. Her body and the cabinet doors would’ve blocked anything. She fought down the panic that welled up inside her. Racking her brain for something. Anything to use as an excuse and failing.
She cried out as her shoulder struck the cabinet and her cheek pressed against the smooth wooden grain.

“I - sir- I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean no harm by it - sir.” The hand coiled tighter still, straining painfully against her scalp as she whimpered. “ I - I was looking for paper sir.” Her cheek slammed against the wooden cabinet a second time. “I learned some letters before and didn’t want the lessons to be forgot. I was just looking for easy words to practice with and and the table drawers are locked.” The lie tumbled from her lips as her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the rest of his rage to hit her. Lies were not her forte.

The silence held for a long second. Then two. Then three.

Then his fist loosened its hold in her hair. Just a fraction. Enough that she wasn’t tearing up from the pain.

She hazarded a breath of air, just before he hauled her to her feet and tossed her onto the bed. The breath she’d taken exploded from her lungs in a cry as she hit the mattress. The chain to her cuffs clipped easily to the headboard, a padlock keeping it attached. Huddling against the headboard, her shoulders shook as she worked to contain her fear.

Unlocking the drawers of his desk, he picked up two neat coils of rope. Dropping one set by the foot of the bed, he sat along the edge to make a show of doubling back the coarse rope. She backed away from him as he leaned towards her. The cuffs limiting just how far away she could get.

Not far enough.

He caught a trim ankle and the rope looped, then cinched tight about it. He released her foot before she managed to kick him, but the slack on the rope was never enough for her to reach and undo his handiwork. Then the rope went taut. Methodically dragging her body back towards the footboard as she cried out. Her body strung tight between cuffs and rope.

“You know. If you wanted an education, you should’ve said something earlier. I’m all for expanding the mind and learning. “ His voice was light hearted. Almost gentle. The tone startled her as she twisted in her place to look back at him. His face was unreadable as he opened the tampered cabinet and noted the items inside.

“We’ll have lessons. Starting today.” He stepped back to his unlocked desk, and slid a clean sheet of paper from the drawer, neatly printing a few words in a bold marker. “You wanted some words to read, try reading this.”

He slid the paper on top of her cuffed arms and beneath her nose. “There, try the first word.”

She sniffed and her sobs quieted as she looked up at him with a bewildered stare. Though tied, she was still clothed. From a man that so enjoyed stripping her down to nothing before he raped her, perhaps... perhaps he did buy her ruse?

She swallowed and turned her attention to the paper before her. “Puh - puh - luh - eh.... ah” Voicing the letters and the sounds that went with them.

“ee” He corrected her softly “the letters ‘e’ and ‘a’ together make the ‘eeee’ sound.”

“Puh-luh-eee-sssss-eh?”

“The last ‘e’ is silent.” His voice was soft as he ran a hand through her tousled hair, smoothing the tangles he’d created just moments earlier.

“Puh-luh-eee-ssss....pluh-eesss.... please.” She worked through the sounds another time, before piecing the word she finally recognized together.

“Good. And the next one?” He sounded pleased with her efforts. Encouraging even as he stepped away from the bed, leaving her to work on the letters.

“Ffffff....uhhh....kuh-kuh. fuuuuh-kuh. ” Her face turned crimson as she identified the second word. Her voice had quieted, but as the other rope caught her free ankle and pulled her tight, the second word of profanity came much sharper than she’d intended.“FUCK!”

“uh huh. Very good.” He smiled when she turned to look back at him, oblivious to the obscenity she’d just spouted. “And then?”

Her head turned back to the paper. Suddenly her position left her feeling vulnerable, the nagging thought that something was terribly amiss. His calm, almost sweet demeanor seemed.... wrong. “mmmuh-why... muhh-eye... muh-ai.... my?”

He slid onto the bed, too close for her comfort. Her eyes widened with fear as he peered over her shoulder, his arm draped languidly over her body and his hand gathering the dress into his fist.

“The last word?” It was a whisper against her ear, his breath making the stray strands of hair dance as she started shaking. He was naked. When he found the time to undress, she wasn’t sure, but she could feel the thick length of his member against the outside of her thigh.

She looked back at the paper and swallowed. In a voice that was barely audible she sounded the word. “Ass”

“Gladly.” A growl that cut her consonant short as he rolled on top of her body and his prick pressed against the tight ring of her ass.

Her shriek was sharp as she struggled, the cuffs digging into her wrists in her effort to pull away from the painful pressure pushing against her hole. There was no where to go. But still she fought. Even with her face buried in the depths of sheets and pillows, the sound pierced the room as his hips rocked forward to drive his prick deep into her ass.

“You like my cock in your ass?” He growled in her ear. His hand tightened into her hair to pull her head back. “This is what you wanted right?”

Her scream cracked into cries as she shook her head between sobs. “auuugh it hurts... hurts... stop please....” The ring of her sphincter burned hot with pain. The lancing anguish only made worse as she tensed in response to the abuse.

Another scream, as he pulled free of her sheath, only to drive back in. The sound barely muffled as her head was shoved back into the sheets. Her fingers scrabbled against the chain of her cuffs, the unyielding chain cutting into the palm of her hand.

“No? but you asked so nicely.” His words were broken between grunts and groans of his pleasure. A low rumble beneath the pitch of her own voice. “oh god, you’re so fucking tight. You’ve never used this hole before, have you...”

His pleasure was evident. Dripping from his voice as he relished the pain he inflicted, the control he had over her despite the struggle, the bucking, the cries. Her whole body shook under the exertion and struggle. The coarse rope sinking into her ankles and the cuffs marking her hands as she tried to fight his every thrust. He couldn’t remember the last time she fought so hard against the bonds that held her. To no avail.

It was exhilarating. A rush that went far beyond that of carnal pleasure. It was knowing that he had so much power over her, to hurt her, take her, break her... without drugs to dull her pain, or lubrication to soften the blow of her punishment

It was hard to hold back. With the tightness of her hole, the pained spasms, the screams that had devolved into hoarse cries and unintelligible babbles and pleas. He was close. His pace hastened. The measured strokes breaking down into erratic thrusts. The hard pounding into her punctuated with each loud slap against her skin.

He slammed hard into her ass and groaned. Pinned against the mattress as his prick spasmed and emptied his balls deep inside her. Letting his hot seed spray the depths of her ass and stain her.

No one had expected the raid. The ragtag collection of civilians that congregated in the Sector 39 safe zone disappeared with the last rays of daylight, melting into the dubious shelter of broken buildings and run down shacks.

Sanctuary had made them lax. Few harassed their stretch of camp and those that did were quickly persuaded to leave once they saw proof of his DNA signature. It was through these encounters that Elise learned that his name was Cain.

But the tramp of boots that night were not from the typical disorganized dealers looking for easy pickings. Flood lights lit up the two blocks that made up Sector 39 as groups of men searched through the broken down buildings to evict the squatters discovered. Roused by the noise, Elise stepped out to approach the closest group, armed with the vial that had granted them sanctuary for so long.

“We were told that we’d be left alone. Cain has granted us sanctuary. Why are you here?” She demanded as she lifted the DNA signature before them while keeping both hands within view.

The men had their backs to the the flood light, the darkness making their features unreadable.

“She’s unarmed, “ One of them muttered and approached her. The heavy glove circling the trim wrist and lifted the vial into view. As recognition dawned upon him and his partner, his grip tightened.

“Recognize it? Good. Let me go and get out of - hey wait!! Let me GO! Where are you taking me?!” She swallowed and summoned up the bravado to bluster her way through. Her words ignored as the pair dragged her away.

“Sir, we’ve got a civilian with a DNA signature here. She says that Cain granted them sanctuary. You might be interested.”

The man they addressed turned slowly on his heel to level a scrutinizing stare at the grimy vial. Recognizing the signature his gaze turned to the woman that held it. “Is this how Cain keeps his women? I didn’t even know that Cain was interested in them, he’s so caught up with business.”

His drawl and penetrating stare flustered her. “I am not his woman. I wouldn’t even want to be holding that, but...” She had trailed off. The wounds were cutting too close to her heart to continue.

He didn’t pursue it. Not now. “Round up the rest of the rebellion and put them down. We’re taking this one back.”

Her eyes widened as she screamed, fighting the grip of the men that held her down just before the clink of cuffs secured her. “We’re not rebels!”

His attention snapped back to her. Accompanying his attention was his large hand pressed against her throat and stilling the screams with the wheeze for air. “That DNA signature is enough to convict you all. Cain and his black market has been supplying weapons to the rebellion. The fact that you’ve earned his clemency suggests that there... ” He paused, releasing her as his gloved hand stroked the side of her face, catching the stray strands of hair. The blonde stood in stark contrast to the weathered black of his glove. “...there must be a reason why he favors this sector.

Neil released the girl, motioning to his aide that he was ready to return to EDEN. He knew that Sector 39 was a civilian zone. But given the unease within Eden, he couldn’t ignore the tipoff that the Sector was harboring resources for the rebellion. And now that they found another one of Cain’s signatures, it would be impossible to leave the Sector standing. Looking at the ragtag group of young and old that constituted those found in the perimeter, it was easy to see that the people there had nothing. Even those would be gone soon. There would be nothing left after his men were done.

A silhouette outlined itself against their vehicle.The voice attached to the figure made the grip on her shoulders tighten. “You know it’s quite a waste to be putting all those lively people down. You should make better use of your resources Neil.”

“And what might you suggest Abel? Since you’ve utterly failed at delivering your brother to us?”

He shrugged as he stepped away from the vehicle. “Tag them. Without her” He tilted his head towards Elise, “They’ll be picked off by dealers. Eventually they’ll lead to Cain.”

“What makes you think...” Neil growled, far more ready to accuse Abel of being wrong than to consider the option raised.

“When will you start? Thinking I mean.” Abel laughed and retorted back.

Neil grumbled and pushed the woman into a holding cell. Abel’s loyalties had always been questionable. It made it difficult to acknowledge that he might be right. “Do we have tags on hand?” He growled at the nearest man.

“Yes sir, not enough for all the civilians though.”

“So tag the youngsters. They’ll be the first to be picked off. You’ve got a good crop of goods here. You’d make a killing in Cain’s market. Sanctuary has done wonders here...” Abel rattled on

He took a step, then a step and then another step. Step after step. He’d walked miles and he still had miles to go. It didn’t bother him. Just steps.

Like the sun.

The sun didn’t bother him either. He looked up at it, squinting his eyes and running a hand through his short brown hair, wet with perspiration.

But the sand….

I hate fucking sand.

He stopped as he reached the bottom of a small dune and unhooked the plastic bottle on his belt. He unscrewed the lid and lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a small swig of water. He didn’t drink too much, not because he was low on water, but rather because he knew it would cause discomfort if he drank too much in a single swallow. He took small sips, just enough to wet his parched throat and moisten his lips.

He brought the bottle slowly back down to his side, leaving it in his hand while he wiped the sweat from his forehead using the sleeve of his other hand. It was hot, but the payoff was worth it. Every step he took in the heat left them further behind.

He looked back from where he’d come, his path marked as far as he could see by his footprints in the sand. He remembered his youth where romantic songs about young love often talked about footprints in the sand. He shook his head.

Fucking songwriters must never have walked for miles in sand.

I hate fucking sand.

He had less distance to go now than he’d already travelled. More than half way, it was still a long way, but less was good.

Good.

I can leave that place behind.

….and stop walking in this fucking sand.

He started to raise the bottle to his lips for a final sip of water before the next stage of his journey began. He paused before the bottle reached his mouth. He heard a cry. It sounded like the cry of a distressed woman….

Or a child….

He shook his head imperceptibly, just for himself, and pursed his lips.

Not your problem, Grant. You’re nearly out of here.

He was close, another full day at the most. He didn’t have time to become involved. Also, they would be after him, they would know he’d betrayed them. No, he didn’t have time.

A cry rang out again, this time louder and more distressed.

It was definitely a child.

A girl.

Fuck me.

He rolled his eyes to himself and clipped the water bottle back onto his belt. He couldn’t afford to waste time, to be involved. He had to go now. Keep going. Get out of here.

He looked to the top of the dune and then back down again. It looked like it was part of a ridge that stretched into the distance. It could mean a change of landscape above it. He’d walk along the base for a few miles before climbing it, then he’d be away from whoever was making the noise. It would only mean trouble. People always meant trouble. He’d always found it best keeping to what he knew and what he knew best was himself. Grant. He smiled.

Fucking expert on that.

Each to his own.

“No….please….no….noooooo….”

A more desperate scream rang out followed by more cries of distress.

A child.

A girl.

The smile dropped from his lips.

Each to his own.

“Noooo….please….”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a small shiver through his body even in the heat. Grant clenched his jaw and his hand slowly lowered to the gun. It was an old-fashioned gun, but it killed whoever he wanted in whatever fashion he wanted.

And sometimes he wanted….

To kill.

“Ooooooooh…..please…..no….”

Shriller, but more distant now.

Or quieter….like the fight was being taken out of her, whoever her was.

He slowly let his jaw relax and pushed out a stream of air through his nose. He hadn't realised he’d been holding his breath.

Each to his own.

Grant’s hand felt the gun in his pants. He listened. No sound. It had stopped.

He sighed. Why should he sigh for a voice he heard in the desert? Why should he care? He needed to go. He had problems, major problems. One voice in the desert in a cruel world devoid of hope. Who cared?

Fuck.

I guess I can spare a few minutes.

He started to walk up the dune, his hand on the gun inside his pants.

Just a few minutes….

That was the point. Who cared?

As he walked up the dune, he lifted the flap on his pants and he started to unbuckle his pack.

There was too much to do just to survive. A girl, screaming in the desert. Who cared?

Just someone running into trouble. Life was cheap here and trouble happened all the time. Helping people was like catching a few lemmings as they ran to the edge of the cliff. So fucking what? Thousands would die anyway. It was best to stay away from the edge of the cliff yourself, at least one life would be saved.

Mine.

He stopped and gently shrugged the straps from his shoulders and dropped the bag from his back. The gun was in his hand now and he had a knife in his other pocket. A handgun and a knife. He thought about it a little more, a trickle of sweat running down the side of his temple from climbing the dune.

I hate fucking sand.

The noise could be coming from a distance. Sound carried a long way here. Once he exposed himself, a handgun and a knife wouldn’t be useful at distance. He had to see who was there, before they knew he was there.

It sounded simple.

He smirked.

Never simple, not in the flat desert. As he thought about it, it all began to seem like a bad idea. There might be many more people than he could handle. From experience, he knew that cowards who attacked other people would be hunting in packs.

One more breath, inhaled slowly, his brain whirring, weighing it up.

He should go. Forget it. He didn’t really have the time. Who cared?

A girl.

No one would ever know. The lives on the other side of the ridge mattered to no one besides themselves. In this world, it was every man for himself. Fuck anyone else.

Young.

No one would ever care. What would it achieve, saving a lemming? Who cared?

He turned to look back up to the top of the dune that he thought might be a ridge. His physical state had changed. He was tense, ready. He knew that it was inevitable. Inevitability plagued him. That’s why he was here, in the desert. That’s why he now had a gun in his hand about to face something of which he had no idea when he knew he should be moving to escape something of which he did have an idea.

Her body shook. Violently. She could feel the burning pain where he’d violated her, the disgusting trickle of cum seeping out only added insult to injury. She knew without looking that her underwear was filthy. She could feel it. Stained from her ordeal. She wasn’t sure which hurt more. Her whole body, or the shame.

The guard waited for her in disdain, and watched her shuffling limp with a sneer. “So he finally fucked you up the ass eh?” She flinched at his words. “Good. It’s about time he figured out what a pretty piece of ass is used for.”

Her fingernails cut into her palm, reopening the marks from the chain that had restrained her earlier. It was a blessing that they finally arrived at her cell. His electronic key beeped and the door swung open.

He leered at her as she stumbled into the room. The tousled hair left tangled strands clinging to the tear streaks of her face, now wet with fresh tears. The dress was ripped and the sleeves torn, the entire thing held there only by the arms wrapped around her body. The mottled marks of the needle, the welts from her cuffs and ropes were all visible. The ripped cloth barely able to keep her modesty, let alone conceal the abuse.

It was strangely gratifying to see her like this. It made him hard, hardening to steel down the length of his pants. Someday when the boss got tired of fucking his plaything, she’d get moved to the whore house on the lower rungs of Eden. Someday, he’d get his turn to fuck her. Tonight though, he’d probably need to pay those whore houses a visit. It was payday afterall.

The door thudded close behind her and the silent tears dissolved into sobs as she stumbled the remaining steps to the shower, leaving her torn clothes on the floor. The water that pelted down was cold. That she had water at all to cry into, to wash herself, was a blessing. A blessing that hid the tears that had already been shed, and an excuse to tremble in the face of her ordeal. It allowed her to be brave, if only for herself to see. She washed herself with trembling hands, trying to rid herself, her body of the taint he had generously left her with.

Thirty seconds left - There wasn’t enough time. Her ration of water would be over soon, and the one minute allotment was not nearly enough to make her feel whole again. But perhaps all the water in the new world would never make her feel whole.

The pipes clanked when the timer beeped and the water slowed to a dribble. Her forehead leaned against the cement, letting the slow drip-drip-drip of water land on her head until even that distraction ceased.

The water stopped too early.

She stumbled from the shower. Her uneven gait was slow and erratic. Her body shivered. The cold water droplets chilling further upon her skin. It numbed her limbs, tripping over the torn remains of her clothes and kicking it under her cot as she fell against the wall. The shaking didn't help. The uncontrolled motion only sharpened the pain in her ass. She sank to the ground with mute sobs racking her small frame. Her body hit the floor hard enough to bruise, but she didn’t feel it. Her senses in her extremities were dulled by the cold.

“NO!!!” Elise slammed against the door that was swinging shut, in time to keep the cell door from latching. She tumbled forward, her cuffed hands outstretched before her to reduce the impact to the ground, her feet already scrambling to bolt.

Neil made a grab at her. Elise was stopped before she got more than a step from the cell. The jerk in her momentum was short. She spun, leveraging her two cuffed hands to swing against his head. Hard. Fists and cuffs connected with the side of his face and for a brief moment, he saw stars. Disoriented, he hadn’t even realized that he’d released her. Not until the gun shots exploded. The guards had reacted to the attack on their commander.

Shit!! He needed her alive!

He looked up in time to see Elise run towards a distant guard. The guard was drawing a knife in preparation to kill an old man pleading, struggling, for his life. The two bullets thudded into her back and a third bullet from the side grazed the back of her head.

Elise fell as the pain exploded in her body, her scream, a short piercing cry. Her vision went dark even before she hit the ground. At least now she would die with her family.

Perhaps death was not a bad thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness gave way to white. Her consciousness registered the distant light that blinded her. Was this death? The afterlife? Heaven? She felt nothing. Aside from the light that threatened to consume her, she floated in this space. Peaceful.

“Will you be able to work with her?” The question jarred the peace from her mind. It was the first indication that death was not all that it seemed. Sound rushed in to fill the former void. The blip of her heart rate, the wheeze of a person beside her. She wanted to turn and look. To run from the familiar voice that shattered her moment of peace. Her open eyes moved, but her body made no motion to accommodate her request. The command her mind issued, simply did not register.

“Subject has sustained substantial damage, but the body itself is useable for our purposes. I’m actually quite impressed with the technology we’ve salvaged from before the Great War. Something like this could prove...” The answer trailed off, “She’s regaining consciousness. I need to put her under again for the last stage of the operation.”

Operation?! Panic spiked a chord in her mind and in the distant world of her environment, she could vaguely hear the beep of her heart racing to voice her alarm. Far away, in a body not entirely her own, she felt the prick of a needle. Her body slowed to a crawl. She felt it slow long before her mind shut down. The drug suffocating all thought, until even the white light dimmed to darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her consciousness made a slow return to find herself trapped in the cage of her own body. The sharp focus of her eyes despite the fog of her own mind was... wrong. Her hands moved without her prompting, holding... holding a pencil in one and a pad of paper in the other. On it was a detailed sketch of two people. The outline of one was distinctly feminine, and very familiar.

“Wha....” It was the only sound that forced its way out. Her lips refused to part further, refused to obey the command to voice the frantic panic welling inside.

From the corner of her eye she could make out the movement of a stranger typing furiously away on a laptop that had seen better days. From the machine extended several cables that seemed to lead to her. He wasn’t the one that had captured her. No, this one was too busy working to pay attention to her, let alone respond to her.

“You’re awake I see.” The voice she had grown familiar with in the last few days answered her unvoiced plea. “You probably don’t remember being put to sleep, but the operation’s done and so far the results look pretty promising.”

Operation?! Did they cut her open? For what reason?! Her head didn’t even lift to address the man speaking to her. Her eyes moved, the only real sign of her agitation. She wanted to see him. What was his name... Neil. To try to find the answers of what he’d done to her. But her body focused only on the pad of paper and her moving hand filling in the details of her drawing.

“You sustained a lot of damage. It was necessary to replace certain parts of your neural network to get you functional again. We had to place a chip to sustain normal human maintenance, to send neural commands.”His voice came from behind her. How she longed to turn!! “Planted here.”

Goose bumps rose as a shudder whipped through her body, jarring the pencil in her hand. She could feel his cold finger brush gently against the base of her skull. A dull throb answered the touch, evidence of the scalpel that had so recently marred the skin. He let his finger snag on the stubble of hair that they must’ve shaved to clear that area for operation.

Her reaction made him smile, knowing that most reflexive actions could not be controlled by the chip. “It intercepts and sends the neural commands to the rest of your body, which gives us a few... additional benefits. We’re reprogramming you. I’m curious to see just how far your... capabilities will go with this chip.”

He returned to sit across from her. Fear left her body shaken, had she been in control she would have been shaking like a leaf tossed in the wind. The only sign of her distress were the slight tremors that shook her frame, evidence of just how little control she had.

“Are you done, Elise? Let me see.” Her name triggered a response and she moved to pass him her notepad. Her eyes eerily focused on him and as he scrutinized her drawing, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye to trickle unnoticed down her cheek.

“Yes. This first one is most definitely Cain.” There was recognition as he stared at the picture in thought. “And the other...” His eyes had lit up when he recognized the face of the other. “Tell me about this... Anya. You say was a fighter?”

Elise stared at the man before her. With the disheveled hair and ratty clothes, he could pass easily among the ranks outside of Eden. His hand flew on the keys. Hacking through the safety features DARPA had previously set in place for the chip in question. It had taken a week to get through the security to enable it’s functionality. Now it was a matter of reworking the safety prevention and getting creative.

Neil shifted uncomfortably by the door and the silence grated on a man that was intent on seeing action. It was with exasperation when he broke the silence in the room. "Michael... how long?"

“If you can’t be patient and stay still, you can leave. You’re disturbing my work” Michael snapped with the impatience that was signature of those who had such close ties with technology. Few people carried the versatile engineering background he had. His breadth and depth made for a cushy niche that allowed him to explore the vaults of technology that had long since been lost. It gave him social allowances in the Eden hierarchy.

Neil stilled with a grimace but when another long minute passed without event, he gave up the wait and left the room. Neil never did understand how these techies seemed closer to the machine than they did with other humans. However the value of that bond was valuable enough that he did not question their idiosyncrasies.

The tension in Michael’s shoulders dissipated the moment the door closed. Setting the laptop down Michael got up with an eagerness Neil likely would never see. Unlike other women, Elise was a marionette tied to a machine. Perhaps the closest he’d ever dare to approach one of the opposite sex.

“So the documentation for your chip tells me that it’s not possible to control your eye movements. Of course it would not be possible for you to keep your eyes closed indefinitely, but you can dictate blinking. Could you blink twice for me?“ He came face to face with a curiousity that shone bright in his eyes. Elise complied.

“So it’s true! Then let’s set up a system. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” He nibbled on a finger as he offered his suggestion and was rewarded with a blink.

“We’re going to teach you some self defense today.” He motioned towards the empty room as the simulator warmed up and came online. “Unfortunately you can’t trigger it when you want to, but if someone else had asked for your combat needs, you’d be able to protect yourself. Ready to give it a shot?”

Another blink.

Michael smiled and tuned the simulator to easy. “Combat engage.”

Elise’s eyes widened as her body moved fluidly into a defensive stance and the hologram before her simulated that of another human about to engage in combat. Michael retreated into the corner with his laptop as he made observations and tweaked his code accordingly.

The dance started as fists were thrown and dodged. Time flew by too quickly for Michael. Rarely did he get to see the fruits of his labor displayed as beautifully as now through Elise. She was a work of art. His work of art.

When the simulation ended, Elise had worked up a sweat and her chest heaved with the exertion. Michael approached her and with the dirty edge of his sleeve dabbed the sweat that beaded across her brow.

“Good. I hope this session was interesting, maybe even fun for you. I really enjoyed it."

One blink - yes.

He smiled, but the happiness was brief. The door opened and his smile was replaced by a scowl. His shoulders drooped and his bright eyes turned sullen as Neil looked in through the door.

“We got through a round of simulation. On easy. We’ll have to keep working to fine tune her abilities at higher levels. She can go now, but the more time you can let her practice, the better I can fine tune the programming.” Michael mumbled a report. His eyes didn’t even meet Neil’s for recognition before gathering up his things to leave out the other door.

Her improvement was marked. Neil had given allowances to let her practice all day with Michael. In some way, Elise had begun to look forward to these training sessions. Michael was good company. There was no pretense in his demeanor, nor any ulterior motive that she could sense. The exertion also meant she could focus on something else other than the plans she was certain Neil was planning. The result meant that within a few days, she’d moved up into advanced mode. Holding even in hand to hand combat against the simulator. Michael was ahead of schedule. It was time to introduce her to weapons.

Elise was left to warm up in the simulation while Michael went into their armory to pick out the weapon he had been scripting for. Neil’s attention turned from Elise to the spiked club Michael had dragged out of the belly of their armory, arching a brow at the selection. Iron spikes on an iron club.

“It’s effective. And it’s much easier to program for than say all the techniques of a sword or knife.” Michael flatly answered the unasked question.

“This is the weapon we’re going to be working with today, it’s called a kanabo.” The simulation wound down as Michael approached, dragging the weapon behind him with effort.

“I’ve been reinforcing your upper body strength during the past few days while you’ve been practicing. Lets see how you fare.” The weapon was a relic of older times. Solid iron meant it had weathered the passage of time well. Offering the handle to her, he stepped away to see how her strength handled the heavy weapon.

Michael watched as she picked up the weapon and hefted the weight in both of her hands. Bringing up training dummies, he walked her through basic swings. There was a gleam of satisfaction to see the target dummies crumple under the impact of her club. Gauging her strength with the controlled swings he was careful to not overwork her in the process.

Michael was no trainer, however reading training routines and other material brought him roughly up to speed. It was the interaction between the AI and fine tuning it’s understanding of muscle limitations that made the training tricky.

The day passed quickly in training, broken up by breaks as Michael sat down to continue making modifications to his code. Michael was in his element. His new project capturing all of his attention to the point of making no acknowledgement to Neil’s presence in the room. Not that Neil cared. What Neil noticed even beyond her progress in the battle room was that more complicated commands could be given as the AI was further educated in the finer motor functions of the human.

Perhaps it was time to test what his latest acquisition could accomplish.